Seven Inches From the Midday Sun
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: A woman from Angel's past makes her way to LA. But is she really what she seems to be?


Disclaimer: All of the characters from both the Angel and Buffy universes were not created by yours truly, but by the man we all look up to with bright eyes of admiration, Joss. Following in his footsteps, however, I did create Charlotte. Yep, she's fully the product of my twisted little mind:) Enjoy her! 

Author's Notes: This story takes place sometime before Doyle....sniff....went to the great demon-lair in the sky. Cause in my world, he'll never leave us. 

Dedication: This one goes out to my little brother, Clifton, for all the times I've made him read half-finished stories and then never finished them. Also, for letting me use his computer during Christmas break so I could write some of this story and talk to Joseph. You're my Bud:) Can I have your CD case for a purse? 

Seven Inches From the Mid-day Sun 

by Kristen Elizabeth (with great, much appreciated help from JosephB) 

Galway, Ireland 1753 

"I have to go", the man said, breang away from his lovely companion. 

Her dark blue eyes looked up at him, troubled. "Where are you going?" 

"Out. To the pub." 

"You're always at the pub. I'm starting to feel quite jealous of the pub", the girl told him, only half-teasing. 

He sensously stroked a carefully curled lock of her black hair, before leaning in for another kiss. "You needn't be jealous." 

The girl moved her head away and took his hand. "And what of the....the brothels?" She took a breath. "Need I be upset about that?" 

"It's not a matter that a lady should concern herself with", he warned her. 

"I love you. Why should I not be concerned about your life?" Her small hand grasped his forarm. 

He sighed and threw it off. "I tire of this subject, Charlotte." 

"I don't understand. You said you wanted to marry me....that the only thing stopping you from talking to my father was that you did not have a job. And now, it seems as though you don't wish to work, ever. Does that mean you do not wish to marry me anymore?" Tears turned her eyes into two small pools. 

"Why does everything have to happen now? I'm young; I have the rest of my life to become a respectable citizen. Why do you want to turn me into one right now?" 

The rise in his voice caused her tears to spill over. "All we have is right now. And.....I love you so much. Please, marry me. Accept the position in my father's firm and...." He cut her off abruptly. 

"And work for the English for the rest of my life? That's what you are saying, are you not? I'll never be an English citizen, Charlotte, no matter what I do. I am Irish....and as an Irish man, I'm going to the pub." He began to walk away, but she ran to stop him. 

"Please! Stay here with me. Don't go out tonight...I have a terrible feeling....something is going to happen tonight", she pleaded. 

"You worry too much, my love. Now, be a good little English girl and go home, before our Irish alley-ways dirty you." He paused, then kissed her. "Goodnight." 

Charlotte watched him as he walked away and disappeared into the darkness. "Goodbye, Angelus." 

************************************************ 

Los Angeles 1999 

"I'm back!", Cordelia Chase's voice echoed throughout the office. When no one answered her immediately, she called out again. "I said I'm back from lunch." 

Doyle appeared in the doorway leading to the smaller, private office. "Should I break out the champagne?" 

"Like you need an excuse to", Cordelia commented, tossing her bag onto her desk. "Where's our boss?" 

"Should be back in any minute. He was feeling kinda woozy, so I sent him home to eat....drink...whatever. All these late nights he's been pulling...hasn't been taking care of himself like he should." Doyle plopped down into a chair and propped his feet up on Cordelia's desk. 

"One would think that being a vampire you could skip a meal or two and be okay." She shrugged. "Did anyone call while I was gone?" 

Doyle pointed to the answering machine. "One came while I was in the bathroom, I think. Wanna check it out?" 

"In a minute. First, I've got to show you this great skirt I found in this cute little Indian shop. It'll be perfect for Friday's audition." She reached into her bag, pulled out the multi-colored garment and held it up to her waist. "What do you think? Do I look like someone who could convince America that Wintermint toothpaste is great?" 

Doyle looked her up and down. "Sure...I'm convinced....I'll go out and buy some now." 

"I think this might be my big break! If I land this commercial, I could see myself on Must See TV next fall. ER....or Friends. I could be the seventh friend!!" Cordelia gleefully balled up the skirt and threw it back into her bag. 

"The one they haven't talked to in five years?" 

She shot him a withering look. "It was just an example. I'm just saying that things could really start to fall into place for me with this commercial. I wouldn't even have to work here anymore." Seeing Doyle's crestfallen face, she continued. "Not that I mind or anything...it's just that...I'm an actress. I was born to be in the spotlight. And...well, there's not much light of any kind in here." 

"Sorry about that. I have this thing about not bursting into flames", a voice behind her apologized with much sarcasm, causing her to jump slightly. 

"You've really got your sneaky, surprise entrance down pat, Angel", Cordelia told him, after her heart had stopped racing. "How long have you been practicing?" 

"Two hundred and forty-six years", he replied. "But I got really good during the Napoleonic Wars. Everyone snuck around back then. Were there any calls?" He looked at Doyle. 

He held up his hands. "Why are you asking me? You can see the machine as well as I can." 

Angel shook his head and pressed a button on the machine. After a moment and a loud beep, the message began. 

"Hello Angel. I was told you are the person I've been looking for. I would like it very much if we could meet....to talk. Tonight, nine o'clock, Peterson Park? Don't worry about recognizing me....you'll know...." The message ended and the machine beeped again. 

"Cryptic much?" Cordelia sat down at her desk and extracted a nail file from a drawer. 

Doyle shrugged. "I don't know. Her voice sounded quite sexy. Sort of reminded me of my cousins from England." 

"You think the Nanny's voice is sexy", Cordelia said, concentrating on one nail. 

Angel, meanwhile, had not moved a muscle since the tape had begun. 

"Angel, man", Doyle twisted his head to see him. "What's up with the message? You look paler than usual." 

The vampire swallowed heavily and shook his head. "It's nothing.....I mean, it's impossible." 

"What's impossible?", Cordelia asked, never taking her attention from her nails. 

"Do you know who the message is from?" Doyle put his feet on the floor and turned his whole body to face Angel. 

"I don't know.....maybe.....but it can't be..." Angel pressed the machine's rewind button and after a second, the message started again. 

"Hello Angel. I was told you are the person I've been looking for....." 

"It can't be her", Angel whispered. When the tape stopped, he played it once more. 

Cordelia put down her nail file. "Okay Angel, you're starting to really creep me out. What are you talking about?" 

He didn't seem to hear her, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge her question. "She died over two hundred years ago....it's impossible....." 

"And the creep factor heightens", Cordelia muttered, under her breath. 

Doyle looked concerned. "Well, *you* died over two hundred years ago and you're still hanging around", he told Angel. 

"Yes, but Charlotte was poisoned after...." He stopped suddenly, realizing he had said more than he wanted them to know. 

"After what?", Doyle promptly asked. 

Angel took an unnecessary breath. "After I became a vampire." He paused. "It's just not her. It must be a potential client....with a flair for the dramatic." 

"Raise your hand if he managed to convince you", Cordelia instructed. Neither she nor Doyle moved their arms. "So...spill it, Angel. Who's Charlotte?" 

******************************************* 

Galway 1753 

Charlotte Emmeline of Leicester worriedly wrung her gloved hands. She sat in her father's elegant day carriage as it rode through the cobbled streets of Galway, desperately trying not to fidget. Fidgeting, she had been told by her mother, Lady Anna of Leicester, was a horrific habit and terribly unladylike. Lady Anna was determined that her only daughter always conduct herself as an English lady of breeding, even if she had to be raised in heathen Ireland. But today, Charlotte did not want to think about what ladies did or did not do. Today, her only thoughts were of the man she loved. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the day she had met him. It had happened quite recently, only three months earlier....on her seventeenth birthday. She had been shopping in the market with her maid and they had somehow become seperated. Charlotte had found herself alone, in the backstreets of Galway. It was there that she had met Angelus. He had been leaving a local tavern, stumbling slightly in the glare of the morning sun, but Charlotte had overlooked that. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. Tall, dark featured, dressed better than most of the Irish she had come into contact with since her family had moved to Ireland two years earlier. The moment their eyes met, Charlotte knew she would love this man for a very long time. 

He offered to help her find her way back to the market, telling her that a lady of such beauty should not wander the streets alone. After a moment's hesitation, she accepted his offer. They talked the entire way back. She learned that his father was a relatively wealthy Irish merchant, but he had no aspirations to take over his father's business. Angelus, she found out, wanted to travel, wanted to see the world. She, in turn, told him of her father's position in one of Ireland's most prominent English banks and of how, even though she liked Ireland, she was terribly homesick for England. When they reached the market, they made plans to see each other again, chaperoned of course, by her maid. 

Thinking back, Charlotte supposed she should have known that her father would be opposed to her interest in an Irish merchant's son, but she still hadn't been prepared for the full extent of his anger. He forbade her to see Angelus, even under highly chaperoned conditions, declaring that no child of his would marry anyone but a full-blooded English citizen. Besides being Irish, her father made a point of how Angelus was not employed, had not gone to the university, and didn't appear to have any means to support her and the family they would have together. Charlotte had made several more attempts after that to broach the subject of Angelus to her father, but he was stoic. She had been forced to meet Angelus in secret, in alleys and darkened corners. Deliciously unladylike, but Charlotte was beginning to feel very guilty. She wanted to love Angelus freely, in the light of day. That could all happen if he would just accept the position her father had eventually worn down enough to offer to him. 

The carriage stopped suddenly, jolting Charlotte back to the present. 

"We're here, Miss", their family's driver announced. 

Charlotte gathered her skirts. "Thank you, Wesley." The footman, Reginald, opened the carriage door and held out his hand to her. Taking ahold of it, Charlotte stepped from the carriage, her free hand holding up her skirts to keep them from the wet street. With a deep breath, Charlotte headed up the stone stairway leading to Angelus' father's apartments. She pulled the doorbell's cord and stepped back from the door. A minute later, the family's maid answered. 

"May I help you, Miss?", she asked, in a deep Irish brogue. 

"Yes, I'm looking for your employer's son, Angelus. Is he here at the moment?", Charlotte straightened her back slightly and tried to look older than her seventeen years. 

The look that came to the maid's face at the mention of his name disturbed Charlotte. "He's not here right now, Miss." 

"Well, where is he then?" 

The maid looked down at her shoes. "The young master has not....been home in several days, Miss." 

Charlotte's stomach dropped. "What...what do you mean? I saw him only a few days ago." 

"Pardon me, Miss. I don't know much....just that he's disappeared....left no note or nothing. The master, his father, is in a terrible state." The maid lowered her voice as though they were conspirators. "The constable is afraid that the young master may be....dead." 

"Dead?" Charlotte's face lost all color. "He...he can't be dead..." 

"Like I says, I don't know much. But, if you ask me, this was bound to happen sooner or later...the way that boy carried on....pubs, brothels. Drove his father to the bottle and his mother to an early grave." The maid made the sign of the cross. "God rest her soul." 

Charlotte pressed her hands to her ears. "Please....I do not wish to hear anymore." Tears were springing up, hot and fast. "He can not be dead." 

"Begging your pardon, Miss. My prayers are with the young master, too." The servant looked back inside quickly. "If you'll excuse me, Miss." She curtsied and closed the door, leaving Charlotte in a state of shock on the steps. 

*************************************************** 

"What happened to Charlotte?", Cordelia asked, uncharacteristically serious. 

Angel stood up from his place at the edge of her desk. "I'd rather not....it wasn't my finest hour...." 

"C'mon, man. You can't just start a story like that and not finish it off", Doyle protested. 

There was a long pause as Angel thought about how he wanted to phrase the next part of his tale. "I had just changed....the bloodlust was....intense. I...I came after Charlotte." 

"But, I thought you said she was poisoned." Doyle was confused. 

"I came after her...but she was already dead. Poisoning, they said. Accidental, from a certain type of face-paint. But I think...I've always thought that Charlotte killed herself after I disappeared." Angel pulled at his ear. "I saw her body.....there is no way that this message could be from her." His tone had an air of finality to it. 

"God, that would make such a good movie", Cordelia said out loud. "I could play Charlotte and Brad Pitt....no, Ben Affleck could play you." After a second, she noticed the looks Angel and Doyle were giving her. "What?" 

"Are you gonna go to the meeting?", Doyle asked Angel, returning the conversation to its proper place. 

Angel nodded. "It's a client, someone who needs help. That's what we do." 

Doyle knew that was his signal to drop the subject, but he rarely listened to his inner voice. "Would you like a spot of company?" 

"Thanks, but this is just a routine case", Angel said. "Nothing out of the ordinary." 

***************************************************** 

As soon as all traces of the sun's rays had disappeared from the Los Angeles skyline, Angel left his apartments and ventured out into the city. The park wasn't very far, but he chose to take the longer route to it. There was time to spare and he needed to sort his thoughts out, something he hadn't been able to do with Cordelia and Doyle around. He had barely been able to sit all day for thinking of Charlotte. Logically, he knew that it couldn't have been her voice on the answering machine. But then, not much of what he had experienced in his lifetime could be considered logical. If logic prevailed, as most humans fooled themselves into believing it did, he should have died two hundred years earlier. 

"Like Charlotte", he said, aloud. How was it that after two centuries, the mere thought of her could shake him like this? He could remember seeing her for the first time, lost and fragile...just like every other simpering noble woman he knew. If only Charlotte had been just that; if only she hadn't been bright and vivacious, with an edge of larceny to her soul, a thing no lady had, or if she did, showed. She had captivated him at a time when he was not easily capitvated by anything that wasn't alcoholic. But, Charlotte was dead. He....Angelus had gone to her house, seen her deathly pale, still body laid out, seen the mourners gathered around her, remembering her short life. He could recall Angelus' rage...he had wanted to drink her blood with a passion he would only feel one other time, much later in his life... When he had regained his soul a hundred years later, he had wanted to return to Ireland and visit her grave, mourn for her properly, but he had been too caught up in his own guilt to make the trip. She had been one of a million faces he had seen in his expanded lifetime, but besides a certain Slayer, she was the only person who had ever been able to make him feel the way he was feeling right now. And what exactly was he feeling? Nostalgia? Leftover grief? Longing for something that he could never get back? Love? Had he really loved Charlotte? Having never allowed himself to think about her too much, he had always thought that Buffy had been the only person he had ever loved. But could he have loved Charlotte too? 

"It's a little too late to think about that. She's gone", Angel told himself, firmly. "And all the guilt and reminiscing in the world isn't going to change that." As he rounded a corner and Peterson Park came into view, he hoped this new case would take his mind off of Charlotte. His guilt over her death was particurally hard to bear. 

Angel sat down on a bench in the middle of the park and looked around. Except for a homeless man asleep on the bench next to his, there was no one in sight, certainly no one that he recognized. Time passed. The night air was cool for California and Angel was glad for his ever-present long coat. Cordelia often told him not to wear it when meeting new clients, something about the Trenchcoat Mafia look scaring people, but he rarely took Cordelia's fashion advice, well-intentioned though it might be. The coat suited him; it was familiar. Something he carried with him from his days in Sunnydale. 

The man on the other bench stirred suddenly, startling Angel. He was a bit embarrassed at his own jumpiness. A quick look around confirmed that the new client had not yet arrived. Angel's body relaxed slightly, but it didn't stay that way for long. Only a moment later, two hands covered his eyes from behind. 

"Guess who?", he heard a familiar voice say, before he abruptly stood. Turning around, he saw what he then realized he had hoped to see all day. "Charlotte?" 

The girl before him smiled. "Surprise, Angel." 

*********************************************** 

Galway 1753 

Charlotte had expelled every single tear in her body for Angelus. He was gone....really and truly gone. It had been a week since she had visited his home. None of his friends, none of his enemies, not even a single tavern owner had heard from or seen him since then. Everyone believed him to be dead, but Charlotte refused to let that thought enter her mind. He must have just picked up and left without telling anyone, she told herself repeatedly, as though saying it many times might make it easier to believe. There were so many other things that could have happened to him. 

"He wanted to see the world", Charlotte told her old china doll. Her chin wobbled and the tears she thought had dried up began to flow again. "But why didn't he want to see it with me?" 

When the crying jag had passed, Charlotte pulled herself up off of her bed and straightened her skirts. It wouldn't do for her mother to come in and see her like this. Not that Lady Anna would have cared what was upsetting her daughter, but it would have embarassed her horribly to have the servants see Charlotte in such a state. She wiped away some leftover tears and smoothed down the bodice of her dress. Angelus had liked this dress....it was a deep midnight blue, the same shade as her eyes, he had noted. 

"Oh God in heaven", she cried. "I don't want to live my life without him." 

************************************************ 

It took Angel a full minute to find his tongue. "Charlotte?", he asked again. "How can...how can you...I...I can't believe..." 

She placed her hands on the back of the bench. "You look as though you're seeing a ghost, Angel. I assure you, I am not a ghost." To prove herself, she reached out and touched his arm. His slight recoil didn't appear to offend her. "See...I'm flesh and blood....like you." 

Angel, beginning to recover from his initial shock, really looked at her for the first time in two hundred and forty-six years. Exactly the same face, hair as black as the night sky, eyes like the darkest of sapphires.....this was the image he had seen on that night before he turned around and walked to the pub....walked into immortality. And for all of those years, he had understood that he would never see this face again, yet...here she was. Standing before him, touching his arm,....alive. "I saw your body....you weren't bitten by a vampire. How can you be here?" 

"It's a very long story, Angel", she said, quietly. 

"I think I need to hear it." 

************************************************ 

Charlotte looked at the badly scribbled writing on the tiny piece of parchment paper, then looked up at the numbers over the door of the shop. This was definitely the place her maid had told her about. A gust of wind swept down the narrow street and Charlotte pulled her shawl around her shoulders even tighter. An omen, she thought to herself, a warning to leave. 

"That's silly. I'm not afraid of you", she told the wind. "I have good cause to be here." With that resolved, Charlotte took a breath and knocked on the shop's heavy wooden door. After only a moment, the door creaked open to reveal a withered old woman. 

"State your business", the woman instructed. 

Charlotte swallowed. "I...I need help. I was told you could....help me." 

The crone peered at her from behind the strings of grey hair that hung over her eyes. "You need a love spell." 

"How did you know that?" Charlotte's eyes were wide. 

"Why else would a girl like you come to me?" The woman ushered Charlotte inside and closed the door behind her. "I can help you." 

Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you so much. I've been...." The woman cut her off. 

"Heartsick", she finished for her. Charlotte nodded. "My help isn't free, you know." 

"I can pay you...whatever you want", Charlotte reached into her reticule for a gold coin, but the crone shook her head. 

"Your gold doesn't interest me", she said. 

Charlotte closed the tiny bag. "Then...what do you...?" 

"Why don't we just say that you owe me something? And someday, I'll collect on it." 

After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte agreed. "Very well. I am in your debt." 

The old woman began pulling a few bottles from various shelves. "What do you want this spell to do? Make him think of no one else? Ask for your hand in marriage?" 

"No. All I want..." Charlotte paused. "All I want is for my soul to be with his....forever." 

********************************************** 

"If only I could have known...", Charlotte told Angel. "You didn't currently have a soul. But she did do her job as best she could....I got the forever end of the deal." 

Angel sat down on the bench. "I did see your body...didn't I?" 

"All for show." Charlotte came around to his side. "The potion she mixed gave me all the appearances of death for a day or so, then I awoke. Immortal. But without you." 

"You've been looking for me....for over two hundred years?" 

Charlotte nodded. "You were always one step ahead of me, Angel. I'd hear you were in Paris or London or Argentina and I'd go there....but you would have just left, sometimes only days earlier. When I heard you had moved to America and changed your name to Angel, I made plans to go, but then I heard it wasn't you....something about you having stopped killing. Then a year ago, I was in Germany and I heard from...an old friend that Angelus had resurfaced in California. By the time I had figured out which city you were in, you had left and moved here. But this time, I was quicker. I found you." 

"And here you are." Angel didn't know what else to say. 

She played with one of her silver rings. "Here I am. I have to say, I thought you'd be...happier to see me." Her voice quivered slightly and Angel thought he made out the shimmering path of a tear down her flawless cheek in the moonlight. 

"I am...I am, really." Angel instinctively stood and took her hand in his. The feel of her cool, soft skin was still familiar. "I'm just surprised. You must have known who I...what I became....and yet you still looked for me. Why would you do that?" 

Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes intense. "I think you know why." 

"I was a monster", Angel said, dropping her hand. "I would have...I would have tried to kill you, Charlotte." 

"I know." 

He swallowed heavily. "And you still....loved me?" 

Charlotte nodded. "My feelings haven't changed in all these years." She lifted her chin and touched her lips to his. When he didn't respond to the kiss, she backed away slowly. "But....yours have, I see." 

Before he quite understood why, he reached for her, kissing her deeply. Charlotte responded positively, snaking her arms up his broad chest and around his neck and pressing her slender body against him. The embrace lasted for a minute before Charlotte pulled back. Smiling, she played with the short hairs at the collar of his coat. "Maybe not, though." 

"I can't do this", Angel reached behind and grabbed her hands, bringing them back down to her sides. 

She wasn't so easily dissuaded. "What's stopping you, Angel?" He looked away, but she took a hold of his chin, directing his look back to her. 

"You don't understand...you can't understand...", Angel began, but Charlotte put a finger to his lips to quiet him. 

"I didn't track you down for two hundred years for a roll in the hay, Angel. I want to get to know you again. There was a time when...we were close." He nodded in agreement. "Do you think we could get that back?", she asked. 

***************************************************** 

"What did you tell her, man?" Doyle popped a sunflower seed into his mouth. "Didja tell her about the curse?" 

Angel looked at his hands, helplessly. "I couldn't." 

Doyle reached into the bag for another seed. "Are you going to see her again?" 

"We made plans to meet...for dinner", Angel admitted. 

"You don't eat, though." 

"She does. I don't know...I'm still trying to take it all in." Angel stood up and walked into his kitchen. "Two hundred years, Doyle and all that time, I thought she was dead. And now, she's just walked back into my life." 

Doyle chewed for a moment as he thought. "You have to tell her, man. Especially if you still have...you know...feelings for her." He looked at Angel. "Do you still have those kind of feelings for her?" The vampire lowered his head and nodded. "So, you explain it to her. She's been around; she'll understand." 

"I know. I know she would. But...I can't let myself get too attached to her again...to anyone. Happy endings are not in my cards, Doyle." Angel picked up a salt shaker from the counter, rolling it between his fingertips before noticing what it was. "Why do I have a salt shaker?" 

"Cordelia and I ate fries over here sometimes. Look, Angel, I know you've decided that your life has to be shadowed and lonely for all of eternity. But the way I see it, this girl....she could be your ticket into the sunlight", Doyle spoke with seriousness. 

"Sunlight kills", Angel reminded him. 

Doyle stood up. "I was speaking metaphorically." "I got that." 

Cordelia suddenly entered from the bedroom. "Are you guys *still* talking about Charlotte? Here's an idea...let's pick a new topic." 

"When do we get to meet Charlotte?", Doyle asked, ignoring her. 

"You won't have to wait very long. She mentioned something about coming over here", Angel told him. 

"Why do we have to meet her?", Cordelia whined. 

Doyle looked at her strangely. "Something the matter, Cordy? Why wouldn't you want to meet Charlotte?" 

She shrugged. "You've seen one excessively brooding immortal, you've seen 'em all." 

Angel shook his head, letting her comment pass. "If you really want to go, Cordelia, you can have the rest of the day off." 

"Well...I don't want to be the only one who doesn't get to meet Stalker-girl", Cordelia said, sitting in Angel's big leather chair. "Can I ask you a question, Angel?" 

"Why not?", he sighed. 

She paused, looking down at her manicured fingernails. "I overheard that whole 'feelings' conversation you and Doyle just had and I was wondering....." Cordelia never got to finish her sentence. The elevator entrance to Angel's apartment suddenly opened. A pretty, dark haired girl stepped from it. Angel stood up straight upon seeing her. 

"Charlotte", he said, crossing over to her. "I didn't expect you for awhile." Gently, he took ahold of her arm and led her over to Cordelia and Doyle. 

"I wanted to get here before midday. The sun..it's a bit too much then." Charlotte looked up at him in a way that made Cordelia uncomfortable. 

Angel made the introductions. "Doyle....Cordelia....this is Charlotte Emmeline of Leicester." 

Charlotte extended one perfectly pale hand. "It's very nice to meet you", she told them. Cordelia ignored her hand, but Doyle took it and on a moment of impulse, kissed the back of it. 

"We've heard a lot about you", he told the girl, truthfully. "Nice to put a face to the name. And such a lovely face, too." Charlotte blushed; Cordelia rolled her eyes. 

"I think I'm going to take Charlotte on a little tour of the office", Angel announced, seemingly eager to get Charlotte away from Doyle's charm. "We won't be long." Together, the two immortals left. 

Cordelia watched the couple leave the room. "I don't like her." 

"Jealous, Cordy?" Doyle picked up his sunflower seeds. 

"Please. Jealous of what? She....she's sickly! No color to her face at all and...." Cordelia stopped, unable to think of anything else. 

Doyle crunched on a seed. "Ah ha! See, you don't know anything about her." 

"I know that I don't like her. Did you see the way she looks at Angel?", Cordelia stood up and crossed her arms. "She looks at him like she's in love with him or something." 

"And this would be a bad thing...why?" 

Cordelia threw him a patronizing look. "You weren't around the last time someone fell in love with Angel and proved it to him. I was though, and let me tell you...it's a miracle I'm alive today to tell you the story." 

"Yeah, but this time Angel knows better. He's not going to lose his soul again", Doyle said, confidently. 

She looked doubtful. "I still don't like her." Suddenly, Cordelia thought of something. "Hey...what would you say to a little investigation on Charlotte? You know, just to make sure she's on the up and up." 

Doyle sighed. "I won't hear the end of it until I agree...so why not? Where do we start?" 

"We? What am I, Research-Girl?" 

************************************************** 

"It's a very nice office, Angel", Charlotte commented after the vampire had showed her Angel Investigations' headquaters. "But why do I get the feeling that you didn't bring me up here just to show me the new fax machine?" 

Angel looked sheepish. "I could sense Cordelia slipping into tactless-mode. Figured I'd spare you." 

"Well, thanks. I appreciate it." Charlotte held his glance for a minute. 

He broke the glance and looked down at a silver ring around her right ring finger. "That ring", he said after examining it. "It's so familiar." 

She slipped it off and handed it to him. "It should be....it belonged to your mother." 

"My mother?", Angel whispered, fingering the small band. "How..how did you get it?" 

"After you kill...after your father died, everything in his house was taken by the tax collectors and auctioned off. I managed to save this, hoping to give it to you someday. But somewhere around the American Civil War, I became very attached to it. I'd like to keep it, if that's all right." 

He handed the ring back to her. "Of course it's all right. It looks better on you than it would on me." She slipped it back on her finger. "Where were you during the Civil War?" 

"India. I heard there was a particurally vicious vampire in Bombay during the Great Mutiny....of course, it turned out not to be you." 

"Particurally vicious....I can see why you would have thought it was me. I was in England...." 

"Turning Drusilla", she finished. 

Angel looked surprised. "You know Drusilla?" 

"I know *of* her." Charlotte played with her ring. "I've met so many vamps, Angel....actually been bitten by one or two." She laughed. "They were quite surprised when I got right back up and walked away. I've also been shot, stabbed and had my neck broken." 

"Being shot hurts the worst, doesn't it?", Angel commented. 

Charlotte nodded. "It's like being licked by fire." She paused. "This is quite a comical conversation we're having." 

He smiled. "I suppose it is." There was a moment of silence. 

"Well", she finally said. "I had better be going. Will I see you tonight?" 

Angel nodded. "I'm...looking forward to it." 

Charlotte started to leave, but then turned around again. "I'm so glad I found you, Angel. For the first time in a very long time, I can't wait to wake up in the mornings." Angel watched with mixed feelings as she walked out of the office. 

******************************************************** 

Cordelia sat down in one of the library's hard-as-a-rock chairs. "Okay...Buffy once told me that Angel turned all evil in 1750..something." 

"1753", Doyle corrected her. She gave him a look. "What? It's common knowledge!" 

"Anyways, if he turned in 1753, then that's the point we start looking for stuff about Charlotte. Right?" 

Doyle nodded. "Not that I hadn't figured that out a moment ago, or anything", he muttered, under his breath. "All right....we're not going to find anything in the LA Public Library." 

"So...what do you suggest we do?" Cordelia played with a lock of her hair. 

"Do you have your cell-phone with you?" 

She dropped the piece of hair. "Yes....why?" 

Doyle cleared his throat. "Well.....she 'died' in Ireland....I know a guy in Ireland....several actually...." 

Cordelia, apparently, read his mind. "Oh no. No, no, no. You are not calling Ireland on my cell-phone!" 

"Cordy....this is your research mission. Personally, I like Charlotte. I think she'll be very good for Angel. But if you're determined to get the so called goods on her, then you're going to have to make some sacrifices." He held out his hand for the phone. 

Cordelia gave him the evil eye for a moment, before reluctantly reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone. "All right. But when the bill comes...part of it is coming out of your paycheck." 

"Fair enough", Doyle placated, dialing a long string of numbers. After a moment, he began to speak to an unheard friend on the other end. "Lionel! It's Doyle....yeah, it has been a long time.....doing good, doing good. You?....that's great. Listen, I have a favor to ask.....c'mon man, you owe me one.....well, that's true, but just hear me out first.....okay, I'm looking to find out about an immortal named Charlotte....yes, Charlotte.....she's about two hundred and fifty years old, dark hair and eyes....quite pretty..." Cordelia's eyes narrowed again. "I need to know everything you can find out about her.....yes, she lived in Ireland, Galway, but she's English....you will? Great....you can reach me at..." He rambled off Cordelia's cell-phone number from memory. "Thanks, man...now I owe you one." Doyle closed the phone. "He'll call back when he finds out anything." 

Cordelia replaced her phone in her shoulder bag. "Good. In the meantime, I think we need to keep an eye on her and Angel. Just in case they decide to get all pelvic." 

"I still think you're not giving Angel much credit. He managed to control himself with Buffy. Why should Charlotte be any different?" 

********************************************************* 

Angel pulled his lips away from Charlotte's. "I can't", he told her, a little breathlessly. "I'm sorry." 

Charlotte looked at him for a second. "Angel...have I done something wrong? Do you not want me?" 

"You know I do....I just can't", Angel sat up and ran a hand through his short hair. "And..I can't explain it.....just know that it's not you...it's me." 

"Is it....the Slayer?" 

Angel whipped his head back around to see her. "How do you know about...that?" 

She began to refasten all the things he had done such a good job unfastening only moments after they had returned from dinner. "I heard about her....and you. I heard that you loved her. Did you love her, Angel?" 

There was a long pause. "Yes." 

"I'm glad", Charlotte finally responded. 

Angel blinked. "What?" 

"I'm glad you loved her." Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder, relaxing him. "Is that crazy of me?" 

He shook his head. "No." 

Charlotte gently guided him back against the stack of pillows. She lay against him. "Tell me about her." 

"Charlotte, I....", he began. 

"Please? She was a part of your life, Angel. I'd like to know about her." 

Angel relented. "Her name was...is Buffy. She's...in college now. I was asked to help her...she was just a kid when she was called. Before I knew it, I loved her." 

Charlotte spoke quietly. "Then what happened?" 

"We don't need to talk about these things, Charlotte. The past is the past." Angel brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. 

She sat up suddenly. "The past....it's all I have, Angel. All I know of you is what I remember from over two hundred years ago and the bits and pieces I heard about your killings. And all I ask now is to know a little bit about the man who I became immortal for. The Slayer....everything about her was important to you. Can you blame for wanting to know about your relationship?" 

Angel briefly closed his eyes. "We weren't meant to be." 

"That's it? That's all you can tell me?", Charlotte asked. He looked away. "What did she do to you, Angel?" 

"She gave me happiness." 

Charlotte looked down at him for a long moment. "Could I make you happy?" Before he could answer, she kissed him, long and deep. Angel's arms circled her shoulders. Never breaking the kiss, Angel rolled her body underneath his. His kisses moved from her mouth, down her jawline. Angel ran his lips over the baby soft skin of her throat, making his way to the nape of her neck. The pale blue veins that most people wouldn't even notice immediately caught his attention. With every beat of her heart, every rush of blood through those veins, his head pounded. It would be so easy....just a little nick, a tiny sip. It wasn't as though she could be killed or even hurt. Charlotte bent her head back, almost as if she were offering her neck to him. So easy..... 

Angel growled as he sat back on his knees. "No!", he said outloud. "I can't." 

"Angel?", Charlotte asked, her voice small. She sat up. "What's wrong?" He shook his head. "Please....tell me. What scares you about this?" 

"I'm not allowed to feel this way, Charlotte. Why are you making me feel this way?" Angel buried his face in his hands. He felt her cool palms slide over his knuckles, etwining her fingers with his own. Her lips planted a tender kiss on his hairline. Slowly, she brought his hands down and kissed his lips. 

"I love you, Angel", she whispered. "I want to love you in every way possible." 

He swallowed hard. "I can't." 

"Why not?" 

"The curse....", Angel began, before suddenly stopping. 

Charlotte looked into his eyes. "What curse?" 

"It's a very long story, Charlotte." 

"I think I need to hear it." 

Angel looked down at their etwined fingers. "I don't know why this is so hard to tell you. My soul...it was returned to me when I killed a gypsy girl and her clan exacted revenge on me." He paused as he got up from the bed. "But there was a condition to the curse." 

Charlotte leaned forward, almost eagerly. "What was it?" 

"I can't....I can't have a moment of true happiness. If I do, the curse is broken and I lose my soul." Angel walked to the doorway. 

"A moment of true happiness....would making love to me make you happy?", she asked. Angel's silence answered for him. "What if I told you, that I already knew about the curse?" 

"What?" 

Charlotte got up and joined him at the doorway. "The curse....I knew about it. Now what if I told you, that it doesn't apply to us?" 

Angel looked at her as though she had lost her mind. "What do you mean by that? How could it not apply to us?" 

"I don't know why, Angel. I just know that your having a moment of happiness like that with another immortal....it won't take your soul." Charlotte gave a little shrug. "You must have...made love to other women before...Buffy. You didn't lose your soul to them." 

"I didn't love them, though." 

Charlotte took his hand. "Are you sure it wasn't just because...they were vampires, also?" Angel had no answer. Charlotte slowly pulled her silk top over her head, baring her pale, perfect breasts to the moonlight that streamed into the room. "Make love to me, Angel. And I promise...no harm will come to you....or anyone else." 

************************************ 

"Cordy, your purse is ringing", Doyle pointed with his glass of whiskey. 

Cordelia immediately reached into her bag for the device. Plastering a huge grin onto her face, she answered, "Cordelia Chase." After a moment, the grin dropped. She handed Doyle the phone. "It's that Irish guy." 

"Lionel", Doyle said, setting down his drink onto the bar. "What can you tell me?.....okay.....uh-huh.......you're kidding, man......how many?.....oh god.....and you're sure she's the one......I see.....yeah, that's her.....I'll do that. Thanks again, man....yeah....the next time I'm in Dublin, I'm buying." Doyle closed the phone with a loud snap, his face grim. 

"Well?", Cordelia asked, stirring her rum and Coke. 

"He found her. Traced her all the way back to Galway." 

"And....?", she prompted. 

Doyle downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. "He traced her back by the trail of dead bodies she left in her wake." 

Cordelia double-blinked. "What?" 

"Dead bodies. Withered up, drained, dead bodies. Hundreds of them, following a very neat path all the way around the world and back." 

"I don't think an 'I told you so' is even necessary here", Cordelia said, flatly. 

Doyle contined, "The most recent body popped up in..." He paused. "Sunnydale, California." 

"Sunnydale.....but, Charlotte's not a vampire." 

He shook his head. "It wasn't blood that they were drained of....it was their life force. Their souls, so to speak." 

"Their souls...", Cordelia sat up straight. "Angel!!" 

******************************** 

Angel watched the scene as though he were outside of his body. Charlotte... her hands on his smooth chest, moving down to his flat stomach. His own hands aided hers in undoing the top button of his black pants. The tips of her fingers explored the space between the waistband of his boxer shorts and his skin. He watched himself run his palms up her long arms and across her delicate collarbones. Her skin was almost milky-blue in the moon's light that played over their bodies. He reached behind her and unfastened the loose bun that held her hair, allowing cascades of black curls to fall over her shoulders. He stroked the strands all the way down, his fingers brushing over the rosy tips of her breasts. She closed her eyes and whispered his name. 

Suddenly, he was back in his body, kissing her with a passion and fury he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time. He held her face between his hands, loving her lips as she anxiously fumbled with his trouser's zipper. The pants fell and he kicked his way out of them. Charlotte's hands were warm against his perpetually cool skin. In one fluid motion, he swept her off her feet, the kiss never losing its initial intensity. Angel lay her down on the bed, covering her small body with his. Slowly, he inched her long black skirt up, past her calves and then, her knees. She whimpered slightly as his fingers made contact with her inner thigh. 

"Angel", she breathed, moving her lips from his. She arched her back, offering all of herself to him. Angel dropped a trail of tiny kisses down her neck, into the little conclave at the base of her throat and across her chest to the slope of one breast. His lips moved over the soft mound of flesh, searching...tasting. Charlotte's fingertips traced the tattoo on his upper back; her nails lightly scratching when his tongue found the raised center of her breast. Angel slowly kissed his way back up to her lips, parting them with his tongue, gently pulling her full bottom lip between his teeth. With little force, Charlotte reversed their postions, straddling his waist as she kissed him, her skirt bunched up around her upper thighs. The night air around them was no longer cool...it was warm, alive...heated by their desire. Charlotte made her own trail of kisses down Angel's hairless chest, continuing over the toned ridges of his stomach. She stopped at the waistband of his shorts when there was a sudden, loud knock on the bedroom door. 

"Angel!", a voice that was unmistakably Doyle's called out. "Need to talk to you, man. It's important." 

Angel paused to catch his breath before answering. "Can this wait?" The corners of Charlotte's lips turned up. 

Cordelia's voice replied. "It's really, really, really important. Matter of life and death important." She was quiet for a moment. "Um...Doyle had a vision!" 

Angel sat up. "Hold on a second." He looked at Charlotte. "I'm sorry. I have to go see what's going on." 

Charlotte nodded, understandingly, but unable to hide her disappointment. "Another time?" 

He kissed her. "Any time." There was another knock on the door. "Coming!", he called back. Getting up off the bed, he pulled his pants back on. Charlotte reached for her top. When they were back in some semblence of order, Angel pulled the door open. Doyle and Cordelia stood in front him him, looking extremely anxious. "What's happening?" 

Doyle peeked his head around Angel to see Charlotte putting her shoes on. "It's....sort of a....private matter." 

Charlotte overheard and took the hint. "I'll see you soon, Angel", she said, kissing his cheek. "Goodnight." 

Angel watched her retrieve her handbag and take the elevator out of the apartment. When she was gone from sight, he returned his attention to his friends. "What did you see in the vision?" 

Cordelia brushed past him and entered the bedroom. The rumpled bedcovers and Charlotte's hairpiece on the floor did not escape her notice. "We got here just in time", she told Doyle. "And you thought I wasn't giving him enough credit." 

"What are you talking about?", Angel asked, as Doyle joined Cordelia in the bedroom. "Can we talk about this vision?" 

Doyle shook his head at Angel, his expression a mixture of disappointment and anger. "I can't believe it, man. I can't believe you'd risk your soul like this." 

"Doyle...there's things you don't know about that...things I didn't know until tonight...", Angel began. 

"Come on! It may have been awhile, but I know what was going to happen if we hadn't come in. You were a couple of inches away from....you know!!" 

Cordelia interrupted. "Okay, let's just take things real slow." She looked at Angel, accusingly. "I can't believe you were going to have sex with Charlotte! Didn't your little adventure with Buffy teach you anything?!" 

"Okay, that's enough", Angel said, putting up his hands in protest. "Look, apparently because Charlotte is immortal....happiness with her won't cost me my soul." Cordelia and Doyle looked at him blankly. "There wasn't any vision...was there?" 

Doyle put his hands on his hips. "Cordelia..." 

"Excuse me?", Cordelia protested. 

"Cordelia and I, we did a little research on Charlotte. Just for the heck of it", he corrected himself. "And we found out some stuff about her that you've got to know." 

Angel sat down on the bed. "What kind of stuff?" 

"She's takes people's souls, Angel", Cordelia burst out. "She's killed, like, hundreds of people and sucked their souls right away. Left them all dried up and icky." 

The vampire raised one eyebrow. "Oh really? And what is the source of all this information?" 

"A friend of mine in Ireland traced the body trail back to Galway. It's true, Angel. She feeds on souls." Doyle looked at Angel's half naked form. "And from the looks of it, she almost had a really good meal tonight." 

Angel stood up. "This is ridiculous. Charlotte is immortal, she's not a demon. And even if it were true, all those 'hundreds' of people were probably human. I'm not, so I doubt I'd be in any danger." 

"Would you bet your soul on it?", Doyle asked. "Look, I know all you see when you look at her is the upper class eighteenth century innocent you fell in love with, but before you wind up soul-less, stop and really listen to what we're saying." 

There was a pause. "Tell me what you know." 

Cordelia and Doyle exchanged a look. "Well...that's pretty much all we know. Lots of bodies, starting to pile up in 1753", Doyle said, sheepishly. "But there's a lot more research we can do with your help. Will you do it?" 

"I will help....but this is your crusade. As soon as we find the information to clear Charlotte's name, we will never speak of this again." Angel face was stone cold. "Understood?" 

**************************************** 

Cordelia piled her hair onto the top of her head and held it in place with one hand. "You know, I wish we still access to Giles' big collection of Watcher diaries. Those things were so boring, but they always managed to be useful", she sighed. 

Angel looked up from the computer he had been situated at for the past two hours. "Who says we don't still have access?" He picked up the phone. 

"What are you doing?", Cordelia asked, letting her hair fall. "It's three in the morning. People get angry if you wake them up, Angel." 

"Not if they're still awake." Angel dialed a number. "Giles", he said, when the phone was answered. 

"Angel? Hello...um...what can I do for you?", Rupert Giles, former Watcher, replied. He sounded more than puzzled to hear from the vampire. 

"I know it's late, but I need some information that I don't have access to here. Could you help?" 

The sound of Giles shuffling some books could be heard. "What do you need to know about?" 

Angel wiped a bit of dust from the computer screen, taking a mental note to supervise Cordelia's cleaning from now on . "I need to find out anything about a Charlotte of Leicester. She's an immortal...about as old as I am." 

"What specifically am I looking for?", Giles asked. 

The vampire took a breath. "Anything about her in connection with...supposedly hundreds of dead bodies." He gave Doyle a hard look. 

"I'll get on it right away. It sounds much more interesting than the chaos demon I should be researching." 

"I appreciate it. Oh, and...don't mention this to Buffy." Angel heard Giles agree before hanging up the phone. "He'll find something soon. In the meantime, I had better call Charlotte." 

Doyle put his hand over the phone. "Why don't we just wait until your friend calls you back?" 

"We just want to be careful, Angel", Cordelia explained. "I mean, if either of us were dating a soul-sucking temptor or temptress, you'd try to keep us from them." 

Angel abruptly stood up. "We have no solid proof that Charlotte had anything to do with those murders. I wasn't there myself, but I seem to remember the American Consituition saying something about innocent until proven guilty." 

"Yeah, unless someone's just obviously guilty", Cordelia pointed out, using her special brand of logic. "So, would you give us a break? We're doing what we think is best for you." 

Their boss nodded, reluctantly. "We'll find out soon enough." 

Doyle and Cordelia exchanged a glance. Even if Giles gathered all the proof in the world, would Angel believe it? 

************************************* 

Forty-five minutes later, the phone next to the computer rang out. Angel lifted his head from its uncomfortable sleeping position on his arm and picked up the reciever. "Hello", he mumbled. 

"Angel, it's Giles. I think I've found what you're looking for." 

Angel sat up straight and blinked to focus his eyes. "What did you find?" 

He heard Giles flip a few pages. "The bodies began to surface in Ireland in the 1750's. The first was a footman of a prominent English family." 

Angel swallowed heavily. "Go on", he whispered. 

"The bodies were found completely dry, inside and out. As technology came more and more into play over the years, investigators found that blood was still present in the bodies, just...well, dried up." Giles paused. "Everyone seems to agree that the victims were drained of some sort of life force." 

"They..they were all human, right?" 

Giles hesitated. "This was harder to find out, but no. They weren't all human. A couple of demons, all men though. The diary of a Watcher in 1905 details an encounter with the individual commonly thought to be associated with all the victims. His Slayer fought her, but she got away." 

"It was a...she then?" Angel bit his tongue to keep from screaming. 

"Yes, a young girl, vague references to the name you were looking for: Charlotte. She's obviously immortal, with what appears to be either a very nasty habit or an insaitable appetite. The body count ranges somewhere around three hundred, but with the absence of a reliable news source two hundred years ago, we can assume that it's much higher than that." 

Angel shook his head. "It can't be...." 

"There's more. One of these bodies was found three weeks ago right here in Sunnydale. Buffy's patrols haven't turned up anything. May I ask if you're after this...Charlotte?", Giles asked. 

"I am now", Angel replied, his voice hard. "Thank you, Giles." 

"Anytime." The British man hung up his phone. 

Angel couldn't bring himself to pull the reciever away from his ear. His mind raced, yet he couldn't form a single coherent thought. The thing he could see clearly was Charlotte.....*what scares you about this?*.....*what was it?*......*what did she do to you, Angel?*....she had wanted to know about the curse, very badly. And then, once he had told her, she said she already knew about it, but it wasn't a problem. "And I believed her", he said aloud. He glanced over at Cordelia, curled up on the couch and Doyle, softly snoring in a chair. "I trusted her over them." 

Cordelia stirred suddenly. "Are you still up?", she asked him, sleep-heavily. "It's like, four in the morning." 

"I know. I dozed off for awhile." He paused. "Giles called." 

She sat up. "What did he say?" Angel was still for a moment before grabbing a coffee mug and hurtling it against the wall with all of his strength. Doyle awoke with a start as the mug shattered. "Never mind...I think I can guess", Cordelia continued. 

"Bad news?", Doyle asked. 

Angel stood up and paced the room, ignoring the shards of ceramic that littered the floor. "It's all true. Everything you said...she did it all." 

Doyle looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, man. I kinda hoped my friend would be wrong about her." 

"What are we going to do?", Cordelia asked. 

He paced for another second before replying. "What do we do to all killers we encounter?" 

His assistants exchanged another look. "She's immortal, Angel. As in, can't be killed", Cordelia reminded him. "There are ways to....take care of immortals", Angel said. His gaze was fixed, unblinking on the bed in his room. 

Doyle approached him. "Would you really be able to do it?" 

"She's planning to take my soul, Doyle. I don't have any other choice." 

"Well then, the only way I know to kill an immortal is to...well, to cut off their head", Doyle shared this bit of information as he kicked a big piece of coffee mug out of his way. 

Cordelia made a face. "Someone's been watching too many *Highlander* reruns." 

"Maybe, but it's true", Doyle sat next to her on the couch. 

Angel shook his head. "No. I won't behead her." 

"Angel...it's the easiest way to...." Angel cut him off. 

"I won't do it. We find another way or she walks free." 

Doyle stared at him for a moment before relenting. "I'll get right on it." 

******************************* 

The phone next to Charlotte's motel room bed jangled, waking her from a dreamless state. Sleep was a luxury she afforded herself when she could; it wasn't needed for survival, but it was still a nice thing to indulge in. Charlotte picked up the phone, knowing right away who it was. 

"I didn't order a wake up call", she said, sassily. 

"Progress is being made, we can assume?", the caller ignored her statement, going straight to the business at hand. 

Charlotte sat up. "It could have been last night, but we were interrupted." 

"We need this done soon. Do not let another opportunity go by." 

She closed her eyes momentarily. "You know I'll do it. I don't have a choice, do I?" 

"You don't, no. We have clients relying on us. Take care of the problem without delay, and your debt is repaid. We'll be in touch." The caller hung up. 

"Have a nice day", she told the silence on the other end, before hanging up as well. She glanced at her watch lying on the nightstand. Seven in the morning. Too bright out to go hunting, she decided. Besides, she had vowed to not feed while in LA. It had been a risk to feed in Sunnydale, but hunger was a powerful force. That had been three weeks ago, and she was already starting to feel the familiar throbbing in her head, reminding her that her immortality came with a price. The need to feed off the lifeforce of others would always be there, but soon...soon she would be able to control it. Soon, she would have everything she ever wanted. "I just have to take care of this one little thing", she told herself. Charlotte put on her silver ring. "Very soon now." 

********************************* 

"Anything?", Angel asked Doyle. He paced the length of the office, careful to avoid the stronger rays of afternoon light that flooded into the room. 

Doyle rubbed his eyes. "Nothing yet, man. But I'll find something. I promise." He returned his attention to his work. 

Cordelia poured her third cup of coffee. "Personally, I think there has been far too much research going on during this particular escapade. You need to just get out there and kick some butt." Seeing Angel's hurt expression, she corrected herself. "But then, I'm often too hasty." 

"This isn't a normal situation, Cordelia", Angel said, leaning against the doorframe. "I can almost fool myself into believing that it is, but then all I see is Charlotte, seventeen years old, lost in the streets of Galway." He paused. "How can this be her? She has a soul; how can she do these things?" 

Cordelia lifted her shoulders, sadly. "Why ask why? You know, ever since Buffy kicked her way into Sunnydale, I've seen some scream-worthy creatures who have done some very puke-worthy things. But they've done them for one of several reasons." She took a sip of coffee. "One, they want to make something happen. Two, they're hungry. Three, they're greedy." Another sip. "Or four, they're just completely insane, sick and delusional." 

"Thank you for that", Angel said, dryly. Doyle snapped his fingers suddenly. "I've got it!" The others gathered around him. "It's a potion that, in a nutshell, will kill any kind of immortal. The ingredients don't look too hard to get." 

Angel read the computer screen. "It'll have to be ingested, then. Any suggestions on how to get her to take a poison?" 

"Wine her and dine her over here", Cordelia suggested. "Then, you know, thrill her and kill her. Actually, skip the 'thrill her' part. You did enough of that last night." 

Doyle looked up at the vampire. "It's a solid plan." 

"Agreed. I'll call and invite her over for dinner tonight." He lifted the phone with much effort and dialed slowly. "Charlotte", he said after a moment. 

"Angel", she said, warmly. "I was getting ready to call you." 

"I have a proposition", he told her. 

"Sounds exciting." 

He swallowed. "Why don't you...come over here for dinner tonight? I'll cook you anything you'd like." 

She laughed. "How can I turn down an offer like that? What time should I get there?" 

"Around eight. It'll just be the two of us. We can....finish what we started last night." He closed his eyes. 

"I'll be there. As for the anything I'd like part, whatever you cook will be fine." He could picture her sweet smile. "See you then." She hung up with a soft click. 

Angel hung up as well. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go shopping." He reached for the printed page that held the poison's ingredients and, teeth clentched, he set off for his apartment, and the sewer passages that allowed him to move around the city during the day. 

Cordelia shook her head after he was gone. "Prepare yourself for mucho angst around this office for awhile. This is like Buffy times twelve." 

"He'll make it through", Doyle assured her. "You know...." He stopped suddenly, struck by a vision. He frantically clutched at his head. 

"What do you see?", Cordelia jumped to her feet. Doyle writhed in agony before her. "What is it?" 

As quickly as it came, the vision was over. Doyle's breathing calmed. "We have to get to the Holiday Inn." 

Cordelia was confused. "Why?" 

"I don't know. We'll see when we get there." 

*********************************** 

When Angel returned to his apartment, with an armload of groceries, he was relieved to see no trace of Cordelia or Doyle. This dinner would be much easier to prepare without them around as a constant reminder of why he was preparing it in the first place. He set to work, peeling, slicing, sauteeing, baking. His talent in the kitchen often surprised him, as he had no idea where it came from. Before he was a vampire, servants cooked his meals and afterwards, food held no appeal to him. It still didn't, he thought, looking down at the chocolate cake batter he was stirring. The sweet concoction almost turned his stomach and he found it hard to believe that, at one time, chocolate had been his favorite treat. 

Angel reached for the poison recipe. Before he knew it, he had added all of the deadly ingredients to the cake batter. He poured the thick mixture into a cake pan and slid it into the oven. Angel stared at the cake for all the long minutes it took to bake. When it was ready, he pulled it out. It looked so harmless, and it was...to everyone except Charlotte. Angel swallowed back a lump in his throat as he iced the cake. His hand idly formed peaks and waves in the frosting with the knife, long after the surface was entirely covered. The sound of the elevator making its descent to his apartment brought him back to reality. Quickly, he scooped up and disposed of every trace of the poison. All that was left was the cake itself. 

Charlotte stepped from the elevator, looking more beautiful than Angel could ever remember her having looked. She walked over to him, not hesitating to kiss him, long and deep. His arms hung at his sides, and his lips barely responded. Charlotte, seemingly unaware, pulled away. "Whatever you cooked smells wonderful", she told him, setting her handbag on the kitchen table, next to the cake. She noticed the dessert. "How did you know that I love chocolate cake?" 

He smiled weakly. "Luck o' the Irish." 

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd love to start out with dessert", she smiled, impishly. 

Angel opened his mouth to refuse her request, but then, thought better of it. Here was an opportunity to make it all end...quickly. "Let's", he replied. "Dessert first, it is." 

******************************************** 

Cordelia looked up at the bright Holiday Inn sign. "This had better be it. There can not possibly be another Holiday Inn in this town!" 

Doyle looked down at a page torn from Angel's phonebook. "According to this, we've gone to every Holiday Inn but this one." 

"And you haven't seen what you saw in your vision at any of the others", Cordelia recapped. "Remind me again what that was?" 

Doyle's brow crinkled. "I saw a palm tree." 

"Wow, a palm tree in L.A. How odd." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "You'd think that the powers that be would give you more to go on." 

Doyle threw her a look as they began to make their way around the hotel. "I'll know it when I see it", he told her. Then, he stopped. "And there it is." 

Cordelia looked at the only palm tree in sight. "How do you know that's it?" 

"It has an wierd bump...just like in the vision." Doyle moved closer to it. "The question is, why am I getting visions of this palm tree?" 

"It doesn't appear to be in any trouble", Cordelia noted. 

Doyle tilted his head, still staring at the tree. "Cordy...does that wierd bump seem to be pointing to something?" 

"Something like what?" 

"Something like that door", Doyle pointed to room 115. He looked back at Cordelia. "Do you have a credit card?" 

She pulled one out of her purse. "It's maxed out." 

Doyle set to work on the door's lock. "That really doesn't matter." In a moment, the door opened. "Let's break and enter", he motioned Cordelia inside the room. 

Cordelia flipped on the room's light. "It's Holiday Inn-ish, Doyle." She thought of something. "Hey, this isn't just a really lame way to get me into an empty motel room, is it?" 

"Amazingly enough, no", Doyle replied, his attention focused on the floor. 

"Why are you looking at the floor?", Cordelia asked, impatiently. Doyle walked over to the bed and picked up a shoe, half-hidden by the bedspread. Cordelia immediately recognized it. "That's Charlotte's shoe." 

Doyle nodded. "We're in Charlotte's motel room. We were brought here for a reason." He looked around. "But what is it? We already know her secret." 

Cordelia took her own look around the room. Her gaze stopped on a thick folder wedged between the TV and a lamp. She picked up and sat down on the bed to investigate its contents, while Doyle searched the rest of the room. After only a moment of reading, she called his name. 

"What?", he asked, appearing from the bathroom. 

"I think I know why we were brought here", Cordelia said. She thrust a piece of paper into Doyle's hand. 

He began to read. "To restore a vampire's soul, use the Orb of Thessulah. If one can not be found....", he trailed off. "This is gypsy ritual that gave Angel his soul back a hundred years ago." 

Cordelia nodded. "And it's the one Willow used to make him good again. But why does Charlotte have it? She wants to eat his soul, not restore it." 

"It doesn't make any sense", Doyle agreed. "If she...eats his soul, how could she restore it again?" 

"What if she doesn't want to feed on Angel?", Cordelia said, brow furred in thought. 

Doyle looked at her. "What?" 

"I don't know. I'm just tossing out ideas. I'm probably way off", she said, sounding for the first time that Doyle knew of, almost humble. 

"Maybe not", he said, looking through the rest of the folder. One piece of paper in particular caught his eye. In bold font, the letter-head read "Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at Law". Doyle cleared his throat and read aloud. "'April 12, 1998. Dear Miss Leicester, We have been employed for several years now by the descendents of an amateur witch from Galway, Ireland whom we believe you are indebited to for services rendered almost two hundred and fifty years ago. The woman's family has given us the sole rights to the debt and we are to see that it is repaid, in whatever way we see fit. We will be in touch, when the time and place is right. Yours truly, Walter Wolfram.'" Doyle looked at Cordelia. 

"She's working for those bad lawyer guys?", Cordelia exclaimed. "That bitch!" 

Doyle shook his head. "I don't think it's by choice, Cordy. Listen to this. 'September 15, 1999. Dear Miss Leicester, The time and place are right for your debt to be repaid. It has come to our attention that we have a mutual acquaintance, a souled vampire called Angelus. You are looking for him and we know where he is. Your duty, Miss Leicester is to neutralize Angelus. Given your unique nutritional needs, we feel that you are best suited to do this. When you arrive in Los Angeles, you will recieve further instructions. Yours truly, Walter Wolfram.'" 

Cordelia began to put the pieces together. "Charlotte had a debt to this witch woman. The lawyer guys are making her repay it by....taking Angel's soul. 'Cause that's what she does, in order to survive." 

"Charlotte really has been looking for Angel all this time. She doesn't want to take his soul, but she doesn't have a choice." He looked back at the ritual. "Once she takes his soul and repays her debt, she's going to restore it." Doyle smiled, but then, he thought of something. "The dinner!!" 

*************************************** 

Angel watched Charlotte delicately pierce the last bite of her slice of cake. She lifted the fork to mouth, chewed and swallowed. That was it. It was just a matter of time now. Charlotte blotted her lips with her napkin and smiled at Angel. "You're a very good cook", she told him. 

He ran his fork through the icing on his untouched piece. "Surprising, isn't it?" 

Charlotte stood up and came around to his side of the table until she was standing behind him. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You're a surprising sort of man." Her lips moved down to his neck. 

Angel stood, forcing her to back off slightly. "I'll get the dishes." He gathered up their plates and walked to the sink. Charlotte looked puzzled, but brushed off the incident. She sat back at the table, waiting for him to finish in the kitchen. Angel gave her plate a few absent-minded wipes with a sponge, but his attention was focused mostly on Charlotte. He wondered how it took for the poison to take effect. 

He didn't have to wait very long. Charlotte put a hand to her chest. "Is it hot in here?", she asked. Angel could see her face becoming paler; beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. She stood up, but it proved to be no help. Her knees seemed to give way and she grabbed onto the table for support. "Angel?", she whispered, pleadingly. He slowly walked over to her, and despite his promise to himself to watch her die without helping her, he gently lifted her up and carried her to the couch. 

"What's...what's going on?", Charlotte asked. Angel found that he couldn't look her directly in the eye. "I don't...feel very well." 

"I'm sure....I'm sure it'll pass", Angel forced himself to say. 

But Charlotte wasn't easily duped. She looked at him for moment. "Angel....what was in that cake?" Before he could answer her, a sharp, biting pain in her stomach caused her to cry out. 

Angel bit his lip, tasting the unsatisfying flavor of his own blood. "It'll be over soon", he said. "I promise." 

"Why, Angel?" Charlotte's eyes were large and tear-filled. "Why are you doing this?" 

But Angel had no answer. 

******************************************* 

Doyle cursed and looked at his watch. "Why do we have to take the bus? We could have been there by now!" 

Cordelia pointed her shoes. "Hello? I've got heels here." 

"Cordelia, Angel is about to feed a poison to an innocent woman that he happens to love. Can you please try to focus your sympathy off of yourself?" 

His words seemed to puncture Cordelia's insult-proof wall. "Yeah...well...you know. Charlotte's not completely innocent. She did kill all of those people." 

"I think she had to. Somehow, she can only exsist as an immortal by taking all those people's souls", Doyel theorized. 

Cordelia rolled her eyes, her defenses recovered. "Oh, well. That makes it all okay, then." 

Just then, the bus finally appeared down the block. When it got to them, Doyle rushed aboard, followed by Cordelia. "Let's just hope we get there in time", Doyle said, harshly. 

****************************************** 

Angel watched Charlotte cough, a thin line of blood running from the corner of her mouth. He felt no temptation; this was not the time or the place. Charlotte forced her eyes open and looked at him. "Why have you done this?", she asked him again, her voice choked. 

He hung his head. "I know, Charlotte. I know everything." He looked at her, accusingly. "Why were you going to do it?" 

"I never wanted to hurt you, Angel." Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. "I had it all planned out....you weren't going to be hurt." 

Angel shook his head. "I can't believe that, Charlotte." 

"I love you, Angel. And...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry", she whispered. Slowly, her body went limp and her eyes closed for the last time in two hundred and fifty years. 

"I loved you too, Charlotte." 

Suddenly, the elevator to Angel's apartment rose and a moment later, descended again. Cordelia and Doyle rushed from it when the doors had opened. The sight that greeted them stopped them short. Charlotte, peaceful and pale, lying on the leather couch. Angel, holding her hand, blankly staring down at her still body. After a moment, their boss noticed them and looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed. "She's gone", he said, unnecessarily. 

Cordelia opened her mouth, to tell Angel all about Doyle's vision, but the Irish man put his hand on her arm to stop her. "I'm sorry, man", he told the vampire. 

Angel stood up, but not before he removed his mother's ring from Charlotte's finger. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's all part of the job." He briskly walked to the trapdoor that led to the sewers and disappeared through the hole in the floor. 

Cordelia pinched Doyle. "Why didn't you let me tell him? He should know that she wasn't trying to hurt him!" 

"No, he shouldn't", Doyle replied, ignoring her pinch. "He really shouldn't know." Doyle walked to the trapdoor and listened until he couldn't hear Angel's footsteps anymore. 

"But...", Cordelia began, before Doyle cut her off. 

"What good would it do for him to know? Right now, he believes he did the right thing." He ran a hand through his hair. "The man already has enough guilt for ten humans, Cordy." Doyle looked down at Charlotte's body. "What you don't know, can't kill you." 

The End 


End file.
